Chapter 5
The woman drove me crazy. Not because she deleted posts or made it so I followed only teammates and family members; I couldn’t care less about that shit. But because she smelled so fucking good, and for the past two hours, all I wanted to do was kiss her. That and wanting to call her by her first name had me ready to pull my hair out.
It would figure that the one woman I wanted to get to know beyond the bedroom didn’t want anything to do with me. If I shared that with Remington, he’d tell me it was the chase. Hell, I’d tell myself that if I didn’t know better. Yet there I was, no closer to being anything but her project. I still didn’t know if we were friends or not. I supposed that wasn’t something that could be dictated.
Sommer leaned back in her chair. “Do we need to talk about Omaha?”
“Contrary to what you believe, I don’t party all the time. It just looks as though I do. As soon as I threw the no-hitter, my social media blew up. You know how it is once your name is in the spotlight, people set their sights on you. You said it yourself during our first meeting. Those two girls didn’t want me for anything other than saying they were with a ballplayer. And as said ballplayer, I’m also a guy.” Sommer rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know how that sounds. I’m just telling you the truth. We have sex on our brains a lot. But I can tell you something that will blow your mind.”
She shook her head. “That’s okay. I don’t need details. You get what you want from them and move on. You’re not the first man to do that.”
Now, I was the one shaking my head. It almost sounded as though she’d been burned before, except, knowing Sommer, she wouldn’t tell me anyway. But being put in the same park annoyed the hell out of me. “Hate to break it to you, but I rarely initiate contact. They do. And not because I’m a good-looking, irresistible guy?—”
“Don’t forget humble.”
“That too. It’s because I play professional baseball for the Utah Hawks. Did it happen in college too? Of course it did. Everyone knew that Cash Jameson’s son was signed to a pro contract right out of high school but opted to go to college first. And how do you think that made me feel?” Shit. I needed to shut up. “All you need to know is, before you go around assuming that I’m the instigator, remember that they’re called jersey jumpers for a reason. And to answer your question, no, you don’t need to worry about Omaha or anyplace else. I’ll be on my best behavior, Miss Bennett.”
“Lucky for me, I’ll be able to see for myself.”
“Wait, you’re going?”
“I’m going to all the games. Since I need to be the one to post content, I’ll be there. Your image will be pristine by the time I’ve completed my job.”
Right, I was her job. That still didn’t stop me from wanting to get close to her. Turning on the charm, I sweetly smiled. “Thank you for taking time out of your Friday night to come over.”
“No problem. Ariel is a doll.”
“She is. So, can I call you Sommer yet?” Her pretty green eyes met mine. “You let Ariel do it, and she’s a kid. If anyone should address you more formally, it’s a child. You know, respect and all that good stuff.”
“Exactly, respect.”
“I respect you.”
“Sure you do. Look, Jimmy, we’re work colleagues, and that is what we’ll always be.”
“Fine. But once we’re friends, I’m dropping the formality.”
“Have a good night,” she said before walking out the door without acknowledging my statement.
Fuck, she was gorgeous. Sommer was an enigma, a puzzle waiting to be solved. What blew my mind was that I hardly knew her. Yet there I was, fixated on the way her hair fell gracefully over her shoulders, the way her eyes sparkled when she’d looked at Ariel tonight. There was joy behind those green irises, and I might die trying, but one day, they’d sparkle when she looked at me.
I tried to dissect this strange infatuation, wondering how someone I barely knew could occupy so much space in my head. Space that no woman had ever occupied for very long. Except she was different. I rubbed my jaw before bringing my hand to rest on the back of my neck. Tension coiled beneath my palm. I needed to figure all this out before I took the mound on Sunday night. We had two games in Omaha. Tuesday was a travel day, and Wednesday, we’d be in Phoenix for a three-game series before heading back home.
And she would be there for all of it.
An hour later, the door opened, and Meg walked in with Remington behind her. “Hi, how was our angel?”
“Perfect as always.”
Remington laughed. “Babe, do you think he’d tell us if she was a terror?”
She shook her head. “No, not even a little bit.” Meg reached her hands toward the ceiling and yawned. “Sorry, I’m exhausted. I’m going to head up. Thanks again, Jimmy.” She kissed my cheek before turning toward her husband. “Thank you for a wonderful evening. I love you.”
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled his wife into his chest. “I love you. I’ll be up soon, and we’ll continue our party.”
My buddy waggled his eyebrows. Meg just laughed and headed upstairs. “You’re a lucky man,” I couldn’t help but say. “You have two great girls.”
“That I am. Do you want a beer?”
“No, I need to get going, I’m beat.”
Remington studied me for a bit. “Okay, spill. What happened tonight? Is it Sommer? Did she do something?”
How did I explain something I didn’t understand myself?All I could do was speak the truth. “Yeah, you can say that. I don’t know ... she just gets under my skin. She just thinks she knows me, but she doesn’t. Catch this, she’s going to all the away games.” His eyes flared wide. “Exactly. Why do I feel like I’ll have a babysitter?”
“Because you will? Look, all you need to do is your job and not worry about hers. I know that is easier said than done. But you can’t tell me you don’t like her.”
“I’m intrigued, is all.”
“Let me ask you this: Is she the first girl you’ve set your sights on that hasn’t wanted you back?”
“My sights aren’t set on her. She just ... I don’t know what it is. She just irks me and not always in a bad way. It’s like I’m in a cat-and-mouse game, but the mouse has no interest in stepping onto the field.”
“Let it go, man. Seriously. We’re in midseason, and if we keep playing the way we have been, we can go to post. Use that as fuel to get through the season and forget the other bullshit. I know you hear the MVP chants each time you take the mound or step up to the plate. Those are the things that should be in your head.”
He was right, and I knew it. The Hawks were having a great season, and I was a big part of that. “You’re right. Thanks. I’m going to get going.”
We headed toward the door. “Thanks again for watching Ariel tonight. How was she really?”
“Perfect.”
He laughed. “Clearly only for you. She didn’t want to go down for a nap today, wouldn’t eat her cereal, and threw a fit when I tried to change her clothes.”
“Huh, then she got it all out of her system because she didn’t fuss with me.”
He nodded. “I suppose that’s a good thing.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You got it.”
I pulled the door closed behind me and inhaled the crisp nighttime air. Remington was right. I needed to make sure my focus was on work and only work. And as much as Miss Bennett occupied my mind, I needed to be sure that I did my job ... my teammates counted on that.
* * *
It was the top of the sixth, with two outs and a man on third. We were up by one run, and as the baseball gods would have it, their star batter, Mike Nelson, approached the plate—making him the potential tying run. To add to that angst, Omaha was the last undefeated team in the west division, putting us second. We had the chance to change that. Normally the team psychologist would tell me not to focus on those stats, yet there had been no doubt in my mind that if you peeled back the skin on my pitching arm, competitor would be etched on my bone.
The Nebraska air was thick with anticipation as Nelson brought the bat into position. The crowd noise turned white—almost a low buzz in my ears. I took a deep breath, rolling around the stitched ball in my hand, allowing my fingertips to grip the seams.
Nelson smirked at me, no doubt doing his best to get into my head, but my focus narrowed to a singular point—the pocket of Remington’s glove. Ignoring my opponent, I locked eyes with my best friend, nodding once to signal my agreement. With a smooth motion, I wound up, the muscles in my right arm tightening before I unleashed my pitch. The ball spun through the air, and despite this being later in the game, my velocity still would register at a rate of close to one hundred miles per hour.
For a split second, the ball seemed to hang in the air as Nelson cocked the bat back. Then, with a crack, the wooden barrel met the ball, sending it soaring over my head.
Shit.
My heart jumped in my throat as I turned and watched the ball fly into the air as the runner on third took off for home. Nelson was halfway around first as I waited and said a quick prayer for it to find the glove of my teammate. When our center fielder, Aaron, squeezed his mitt around the ball, a surge of relief washed over me. The crowd let out a collective groan, Nelson tossed his batting helmet toward the dugout, and I acted as though none of it affected me. Calm, cool, and collected on the outside, happier and relieved as fuck on the inside.
Aaron jogged toward the infield, flipped the ball to the umpire, and I met him with a high five. “Great catch.”
“Great pitch. It had enough movement on it to keep it in the park.”
We jogged into the dugout, where I grabbed my jacket, slipped my right arm in it, and sat down.
The rest of the game, thankfully, went in our favor, handing Omaha a rare loss to their outstanding record. In the locker room, the coach wrapped up the game with words of positivity and things we needed to look out for in tomorrow’s game. Once dismissed, we showered, changed, and headed to the bus, where, unbeknownst to me, my winning high came to a halt.
A line of reporters stood behind the metal gates, making a path in the parking lot. Questions and comments were barked out, mostly with my name leading them. But I didn’t bother to answer any unless they had to do with the game that just happened.
“Jimmy, is it true the team put you on probation?”
“Jimmy, what does your father think of your extracurricular activities?”
“Online sources claim Sommer Bennett has been appointed your personal PR person. Did you get fined?”
Fined for what?
“Is it true you might be heading to Tulsa?”
The minors? After the game I just pitched? I should have kept going, but that one had me stopping in my tracks before Aaron came up behind me and put his arm on my shoulder. “Dude, ignore them.”
“He’s right. Ignore them, man,” Remington said, falling in step with us.
A few fans holding their phones in the air yelled our names. It reminded me of when I was a kid and wanted my favorite player’s autograph ... now, to some, that player was me. And no one, not even Miss Bennett, could take that away.
We walked over to greet them. Some wore our emblem; others donned Omaha’s. It didn’t matter. We were all professional ballplayers. Taking turns, each of us signed baseballs and programs from the game. Then, at the end of the line, was a boy who had to be about ten years old, with a young woman behind him yelling my name.
Smiling, I walked up to him. “Hi, Mr. Hall,” he adorably said before handing me a baseball and a black permanent marker.
“Hey, buddy. What’s your name?”
“Jimmy.”
I glanced up at him and chuckled. “Great name.” I signed the ball, handed it back to him, and looked up at the woman behind him. Auburn hair that was pulled back in a high ponytail and a white tight-fitting V-neck T-shirt had the Hawks’ logo stamped on the front.
“No way you’re his mother,” I simply stated. To some, that might have sounded like a line, but I was being honest.
“That’s my oldest sister. She loves you,” little Jimmy said with an exaggerated eye roll.
Again, I laughed. “That so?”
“Yup! Even has your picture on her wall.”
“Okay, buddy, that’s enough. I’m Mackenzie. Sorry about my brother here. He loves to embarrass me.”
“No need to be embarrassed. I’m flattered. And it’s good to meet you both.”
“Will you sign my shirt?” I willed my eyes not to drop to her cleavage, and she gave me a smile, then turned. Sure enough, my name and my number, forty-six, were on the back.
She lifted her hair, and without hesitation, I scrawled my name on the four. “There you go.”
Mackenzie turned, and her gaze met mine. She had green eyes like Sommer, but they didn’t have the same little silver flecks as the ones I felt boring into the side of my head. I hadn’t seen her there before, but I found myself having a keen sense of when she was around.
“Can we get a selfie? You know ... for my little brother?”
“Sure.”
Mackenzie stood on one side of me, Jimmy on the other. She reached forward, grazing my arm with hers as she lifted the phone high into the air and snapped pictures.
“This is so cool,” he said, looking at his sister’s phone. “Thank you, Mr. Hall.”
“You’re welcome. Thanks for coming to the game and for supporting the team.”
Mackenzie handed me a slip of paper and leaned closer to me. “I’m his much older sister. Call me if you’re bored while you’re in town.”
Not wanting to be rude, I simply smiled before taking a few steps away from them and almost running over Sommer.
She pursed those fucking lips. One day, I’d kiss them, but for now, I just waited for her to yell at me. Instead, she quietly followed me onto the bus and to the last row, where she sat next to me. Sommer hadn’t ridden with us on the way to the park. Why she decided to now was beyond me.
The reporters’ questions popped into my head. But before I could complain about them, she held her hand out, palm side up. “Hand it over.”
“Hand what over?”
“The number.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Do you honestly think I’m going to use it?”
“Not if you don’t have it.”
Raising my hips up, I reached into my front pocket and plucked out the folded paper. “Take it. Maybe I should ask the concierge for the closest monastery. You know, in case I get released from the team.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“Me, I’m the dramatic one? Did you hear the reporters?” I found myself asking. “Where were you then? Aren’t you my PR person? You should have stepped in and answered for me.”
“I didn’t need to do anything. As soon as they see you have someone answering for you, the speculation will grow. It’s all perception. You’re going to need to trust me.”
“Seriously? I can’t even call you by your first name, yet you want my trust?”
Frustrated, I shook my head, reached into my bag, and pulled out my earbuds. Once they were nicely tucked into my ears, I tapped my phone, opened my postgame playlist, closed my eyes, and tuned everything and everyone out ... including Miss Bennett.